The Elder Scrolls: Down with an Empire (Prelude)
by JinxJenks
Summary: The prelude to my story I will be writing. reviews and criticisms are very welcome. Remember to read the continuation of this story in 'The Elder Scrolls: Down with an Empire' (I do not own The Elder Scrolls) READ BEFORE THE ACTUAL STORY FOR MORE PLOT DETAILS!
1. Chapter 1

The Elder Scrolls:

Down with an Empire

Prelude

by Logan Jenkins

"Your Grandfather was… was a great man."

"Is that all you have to say Father? Surely you can tell me what he has done that is so amazing."

"Fine, Logvarine, if you wish then I shall tell you what makes him so great, why he is remembered as a hero…"

Your grandfather was a general in the Imperial military ever since he had helped Martin stop the 'Oblivion crisis'. We live a long time you see, we Dunmer, he was over 190 years of age when he was killed. He served faithfully with the legion the rest of his life and followed the orders that his commanding officers gave him and in return the people under him listened to his call like a trained pack of wolves. He became the Arch mage of the mages guild, up until it was split; he never spoke that day, he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring the two groups back together. He became a master in all of the forms of magic, even more so than I am right now. His conjuring was so strong that he could summon Dremora Lords for very extended amounts of time, and most surprising of all, he gained their respect, two of them actually. They followed his every word and served alongside of him in many a battle. They even told him their names, which is forbidden amongst the Dremora ranks, they were his only trustworthy allies. He was the one, matter of fact, that rediscovered frostcrag tower where we now sit. He founded the guild of mercenaries who now reside here, of all creeds and colours, beliefs and races. It was him and his closest friends who created, and extended the spire here to fit more people, and formed the guild. As you know we have no name, only that we work in the name of the empire, until the day when it is no longer the true empire. I was there the day that he… died, at the hands of the Thalmor

The year was 174 of the current era…

"Get the citizens out of the streets!" screamed a man with a rough white beard and weary looking red eyes. He wore a black hood on his head, and a suit of armor black as night with trimmings the colour of the red dragon crown, gold. His dragon guard armor shone in the fires lighting up the streets in the market district.

"Are you sure you will not accompany us Logsharn?" spoke the Emperor. He was surrounded by his blades on all sides and a large force was amassing behind him. Logsharn slowly turned to look at him and frown.

"Forgive me Titus, but I must try to save the city and defend it to my dying breath, I cannot follow you north." The Emperor replied with another frown.

"I understand friend, gods speed to you." The Emperor and most of the military left for the north of the city while a small force remained behind to, essentially, throw away their lives.

Men gathered to my father and they prepared for their final stand, until I came along…

"Warnarn, what are you doing here?" said Logsharn as I walked out of the stall in the market. He hugged me and put me down, telling me to run to the college; what used to be the college. Before I left I had just enough time to see him summon Xakkev and Rezzkal, his Dremora companions, as they brandished their weapons for the coming storm.

"_Will this be the final stand Master?_" asked Xakkev. Father tried to wait until I was out of earshot to answer, but I still heard.

"There is no doubt, by the Divines…"

When I arrived at the Mages college and got ready to step on the pad to take me to the spire, I saw the front gate of the bridge bust open and imperial soldiers flooded in, the last ones in were my father and his summons, they were mowing down the Altmer faster than I ever thought possible, father with his claymore made of daedric metals.

Arrows ripped apart the other forces and they told him to go and tell the emperor what had happened. Before he could object they slammed the gate of the university in his face, he and his two followers ran to me and my father told me to go to the spire and destroy the pad on the way out. I told him I would but I stood behind the door and watched through the cracks, I could hear the soldiers screaming in terror and the sickly sound of the Altmer's laughing.

"_You were a good master, Hero of Kvatch._" Said Rezzkal.

"_Perhaps we shall see you in oblivion, Lord Hlaalu._" Said Xakkev.

"Tell Dagon something for me, will you."

"_Yes, what is it my Lord?_" asked Rezzkal.

"Tell him that he's an N'wah that should stay in his own realm…" The doors opened then and black robed men flooded the courtyard. Father stabbed one in the stomach and slashed through to get to another, taking his head off. Rezzkal bashed one with a shield and slashed across his chest, turning to take another's arm off and stab another in the face. Xakkev took down eight before he was run through, he grabbed on to an Altmer and sucked out his soul with a black soulgem before he died, and took it with him as he turned to red ashes as his essence was returned to Oblivion. Rezzkal jumped in front of father to shield him from a lightning spell and took one more Altmer's head off before he fell to the ground and said goodbye to his master, he also turned to ashes. My father being the man that he was pressed his hand against his armor, runes spread all around it, glowing red. He screamed as he charged into the group of Altmer slashing and stabbing, chopping and lunging. He took down a good 10 more before he took a sword to his chest. As he fell to the ground the red runes started to glow brighter. He cursed something in Dunmeri… and exploded into a giant fireball, incinerating most of his remaining adversaries. I went back to the tower then… and destroyed the teleportation pad…

"He could have escaped, why didn't he father?" spoke Logvarine, he had black hair that was brushed to reveal his forehead and long dark Indigo grey ears. His Red eyes were inquisitive at best. His father Warnarn was his reflection, save a mustache and shorter hair, as well as some more wrinkles.

"Honour, he swore to protect the empire not the Emperor, he chose an honourable path, and I wish to die like that as well."

"Don't talk like that," said Logvarine his eyes squinting, "we have lots of time."

"Yes, and I must get you and your comrades ready for the coming age… there is something I never told you and Nivard…"

"what?"

"…on the night you were born, the same night ironically, Talos came to me in a dream, he thanked me for my family's service to him in the days of old, the second era, and said that I would be given Two sons. I was pleased but he added to that, my sons would both be blessed with the souls of Dragons, as well as my friends son Nivard; your friend. You, your twin Logelaine and your friend Nivard may actually be Dragon born!" Logvarine stared at him with sceptical eyes.

"…What?"

"The legend of the dragon born? The old Nordic legends, you don't remember?"

"Nivard might, he is a Nord, but I don't believe in all of that stuff." Warnarn reached into his robe pocket and produced an amulet. The necklace had a symbol of Talos hanging from it; he threw it at his son who caught it with hardly any movement.

"You should…" He got up and walked away, "You may only be seventeen, but your training will begin tomorrow, get some rest."


	2. Chapter 2

"What?" said the Nord Nivard. His brown hair fell down in front of his face.

"That's what I said, I don't believe all that nonsense."

"It is NOT nonsense! The thing that confuses me is that there is only supposed to be one Dragonborn at a time… or so I thought."

"Does it actually say that in the old texts?" said Logvarine.

"…No… it does however say THE Dragonborn so I'm pretty sure that there should only be one." Logvarine rolled his eyes.

"I grew up around Daedra and Divines as my Beliefs, so I don't know anything about ancient Nordic superstitions." Nivard wound up and punched him in the shoulder, Logvarine hardly flinched as he popped it back into place.

"Hasn't your father told you that your ancestors were raised by nords?"

Logvarine had a quizzical look on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"My father told me." He walked over to his bed on the other side of the room and sat down. "And your father told him."

"My father never told me that…" he looked down at the ground, maybe his father didn't trust him enough.

"Have you never looked at your name," Nivard pointed at Logvarine, "It is obviously a Nordic name. 'Logvarine' see?" Logvarine simply crossed his arms and sat down on his own bed.

"That Dragonborn stuff just doesn't make sense to me… but I may have to ask my father about our ancestors." A woman walked in through the doorway, a woman with a tail, pointed ears and wide cheeks.

"I understand that ancestry is important to your people Log'." A Khajiit woman, not much younger than the boys stood by the doorway, she had a beautiful coat of gray fur with light brown spots, her forehead was speckled with them. She was of a lean build and wore a red robe.

"Oh, greetings Catath'een." Spoke Nivard. Logvarine just stared at her.

"Your fur… are you Moon-Cat's daughter?" he asked intrudingly, though she did not seem to mind.

"Yes, that is my mother's Cyrodilic name, she is—"

"The leader of the Thieves Guild, I know. I've already been inaugurated into their ranks." Logvarine was always an accomplished sneak and bragged about it to everyone.

"Oh…" was all she said. Logvarine sighed and reached under his bed, when his grey hands came back up they held a skooma pipe.

"You know, maybe if you learned more about your Nord heritage you would learn humility." Logvarine ignored the remark and snapped his fingers three times. After the third time a fire erupted from his fingers and he held it below the pipe, he took a long drag on it and set it down without coughing once.

"May I have some Friend?" asked Catath'een.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" she rolled her eyes and waltzed over to his bed. She sat down.

"Khajiit are resistant to Moon-sugar and Skooma, it would take a lot. Same with the Dunmer, although to a lesser extent." She said grabbing the pipe. He flicked his fingers as she held it to her mouth and the liquid contents of the glass bubbled up. She too sat it down without a cough or wheeze.

"Well I feel left out now, but before you ask, no thank you." Said Nivard from across the room.

"I understand." Said Logvarine, all he said surprisingly.

"Does your Pa know you do these… substances?" asked the Khajiit.

"No." he said with a straight face. "Our leader would most likely not approve of such practices." She laughed.

"Your people are always so serious." He could notice her thick accent now, how she rolled her R's.

"They have a reason," remarked Nivard, "Their home blew up from under them." The dunmer looked up with his fiery red eyes.

"We don't like to talk about Morrowind." Was all he said before putting his head back down.

"I can understand," she said, "We Khajiit feel what you call 'Home sickness' rather easily when away from Elswyr. We miss the warm sands beneath our feet."

"Yes, but your home wasn't blown up by the largest known volcano in Tamriel, and then ransacked by a bunch of _Lizards_." He said with a bitter emphasis on the word Lizards.

"The Hist-born had their reasons, Centuries of slavery will do that to people." Spoke the Nord.

"My family was Hlaalu back then, we were bitterly opposed to the slave trade, there was no love for my cousins when they invaded." He gathered himself and hid his anger. "I have forgiven them however, new subject."

"Actually, I like this subject." Another figure appeared in the doorway. An Argonian, for irony's sake, with grey scales speckled with small purple ones. Brown spines and black feathers adorned his head. He wore a black robe, that of the Black Hand.

"Em-shei, I didn't know you were still here today. Don't you have a contract?" asked Logvarine. "I'm sure your father as Listener would not approve of you shirking your duty to the Night-Mother."

"The Night-Mother has a large capacity for patience, unblooded." Logvarine spit in his direction.

"I have spilled much blood in my life, not much of the intelligent however." The Argonian switched the conversation quite suddenly.

"I turn 17 in a month, murder starts early, for a shadow-scale at least."

"Then go Impress your father by getting your scaly Tree-hugging arse out of this tower and go kill the contract, I'm sure he'd get you a nice Birthday present." Snarled Logvarine. Em just laughed.

"Okay, I'll see you soon then new friend." He pointed this at Catath'een and she smiled and waved as he exited the room.

"You are a hostile one, no?" she said. He turned to her and sighed.

"It is my nature, my father thinks he can show me a better way to interact with the world."

"Exactly!" shouted Nivard, "You need to learn more of your Nordic roots." He seemingly ignored his friend as he put the pipe back under the bed. He then got on his hands and knees and pulled out a satchel. He sat back on the bed.

"I will ask my father tomorrow," said Logvarine, "until then, I give this to you as a welcoming present." He held out the satchel and she took it from his hands. As she opened it her eyes lit up. Moon-sugar and a lot of it; a delicacy in Elswyr.

"Thank you kind friend. And call me Cat from now on, yes?" She got off of the bed and walked out of the room.

"That is sick." Said Nivard. The dark elf looked up quickly.

"What?"

"I saw your eyes following her, she is a Khajiit, you are an elf. You see what I am getting at?" he cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Logvarine stared forward.

"I'm… not sure I understand."

"She is a cat, you are an elf, and—"

"What are you Implying you oaf?" Nivard smiled a wicked smile.

"You like her… don't you?" Logvarine maintained his straight stone carved face.

"Why would that be sick, are you a racist?" he said raising an eyebrow.

"Not a chance, just looking out for my friendly neighborhood Grey-Skin."

"That WAS racist."

"It's okay," laughed Nivard, "I have DarkElf friends."


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning the two men awoke from their slumbers and made their way to the armory to suit up the snow on the mountain peaks shone in the morning light as Logvarine could see from the window. After he was suited up he waited for Nivard. Eventually he exited the armory fitted in Iron armor and ready to go, Logvarine wore a hardened leather armor covered by a black robe with an accompanying hood. They sharpened their weapons on the grind stone, and went to the court yard. They sat with Logvarine's father for a while at a table outside and ate, then he tried to tell them their purpose here.

"You are already finished your 'Training' so to speak, but—" Logvarine, impatient as always, slammed his fist down on the table.

"Stop toying around father what are we here for?" asked Logvarine.

"Don't you have something to ask him first Log'?" said Nivard whilst sipping on a bottle of mead.

"Oh yes, you're right." He spoke turning to his father, "We need to talk about our… not so Dunmeri heritage." Warnarn let out a long sigh and then said:

"I'll give you the short version. As far as we can trace our history back, our first known relative was named 'Logvar' a Nord name as he was raised by a nord family after he was orphaned as an infant. He is your namesake Logvarine. Logvar plus the title of Nerevarine roughly translating to 'Logvar reborn'. He served as a spy and soldier for Tiber Septim, who is now known as Talos, and so we have served the true empire faithfully for over one thousand years."

"I doubt this is the true empire anymore, the Thalmor have messed things a bit." Nivard spoke. Logvarine sighed in agreement.

"Well, on to business." Warnarn said. "We need to give you powers and tools worthy of Dragons."

"Father, you don't truly believe that we are Dragonborn, do you?" his father rubbed his eyes and forehead.

"That dream… it felt real, like I was there. So yes, I do truly believe that you two and your brother are Dragonborn." Logvarine began looking around.

"Where is your other son, father." He said.

"Your brother is off getting his own blessings." Replied Warnarn.

"…Blessings?" spoke a now nervous Nord. Warnarn turned to his son's friend.

"Tell me, are you afraid of Daedra Niv'?" he asked with a raised brow.

"I eat Daedra for breakfast." The man shook his head.

"No, no. I mean do you fear meeting Daedra… and working WITH them?" a bun was half way to Nivard's mouth when he stopped and set it down.

"Sir… what are you planning?"

"Watch this." He whispered. He pulled his right sleeve up and began making a painful looking face. Suddenly his arm started to grow fur and his forearm extended, the bone literally stretched, as his hand shaped into a claw. Nivard was taken aback. Logvarine was unfazed.

"You… can have… this power…"

Within two days they had arrived at a shrine in the middle of the woods, it wasn't a large shrine as it simply had two benches and a statue of a man. The man had a deer head in place of his own with two large stag horns sticking out of it. He held a spear in one hand and the leash of a dog in another. As they approached, the worshippers of the shrine moved to the side and bowed their heads toward Warnarn.

"Chosen of Hircine," spoke an Imperial, "You have returned."

"With gifts." Warnarn pointed at the large sack that was on his back.

"Approach the shrine, and place your offerings." The imperial gestured with both hands toward the statue. They made their way over to the statue of the deer man and Warnarn placed his knapsack on the ground. A purple, blue and black portal opened in front of them and a spectral figure appeared before them, the same figure that was represented in the statue.

"My Prince Hircine," spoke Warnarn as he kneeled down. The rest of the worshippers kneeled down as well so the boys decided to follow. "I bring you gifts, and a proposition."

"_What is it, my chosen?_" spoke hircine in a very demanding omnipotent voice. Warnarn reached into his sack and pulled out five wolf pelts, and four bear pelts.

"I would ask of you a favour, Hunt master."

"_You impress me, ask away._"

"These two men I have with me, one is my son, and one is the son of a friend who is also under your wing," he stood up, "I wish for you to give them… the same power." There were whispers amongst the crowd. Hircine crossed his powerful arms and looked up at the moons.

"_I… suppose I could, do they realize what that entails, that they would have to serve me in death._" Spoke the ghostly figure. Logvarine stood up and approached the Prince.

"He explained it on the way here my Lord." Warnarn had a concerned look on his face and Nivard looked like he was sweating off a few pounds. Hircine walked closer towards him until they were almost touching, Warnarn was sweating hard now.

"_You have the makings of one of my loyal guardians, the wolves._" Hircine stamped the bottom of his spear into the ground. "_Do you wish to be one of my guardians, hmmm?_" Logvarine just stared at him.

"Yes, I would be honoured, Lord Hircine." The prince placed his hand against Logvarine's chest and the dunmer's eyes opened wide as he gasped for breath. Nivard had a look of utter disgust on his face, while Warnarn was complacent. Logvarine fell to the ground heaving his breaths. His forearms began to extend as well as his snout, fur was growing everywhere and his muscles grew bulky. His nails morphed into long sharp black claws and his teeth grew sharp. His eyes turned yellow and they stood out against his black fur. His clothes remained on, though they were on the verge of ripping. He fell to his feet and looked upwards, howling at the moons. He turned to the group of people and went to lunge, but his father was on him and with a single swift punch Logvarine was out cold.

"_I see great things in his future,_" spoke Hircine, "_give him your ring._" Warnarn looked at him with surprise.

"My Lord, I…"

"_Do as I command and give him my ring._" Logvarine was already back to normal. His father took a silver colored ring off of his right hand and slipped it onto his son's finger. Hircine turned to Nivard, who swallowed hard. "_You… are a nord._" He said softly, "_You are already strong… you could be one of my most fearsome hunters, the werebear!_" Nivard had heard stories from his father of the werebears; they were monstrous beings that terrorized the Nords of Skyrim and devoured the flesh of men and mer.

"You… you think I could… could be a… w-werebear?" said a nervous nord. Hircine made his way over to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet.

"_I do not lie, you simply need to devour your fear._" He pressed his hand against the boys chest and the same horrible wrenching pain spread throughout his body. His muscles grew to five times their regular size and he grew a coarse brown fur all over his body. His hands looked similar to Logvarine's, with long claws, but the pads of a bears paw on his fingers and palms. His snout became larger and his eyes yellow, his armor was starting to bend when Warnarn clocked him in the jaw.

"More warning please," said Warnarn as he breathed heavily. "Next time."

"_They will sleep where they lay tonight, to become more with nature, as is my will._" The Daedric prince grabbed the furs and disappeared back into nothing.

When they awoke in the morning, the sun shining in their faces and the green grass on their backs, their heads were pounding with a disorienting pain. Logvarine got up and went over to his father who was laying on the bench. "Today we go to the shrine of Nocturnal." He said.

"We already serve one daedric lord, why serve another?" his father crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Power Logvarine, Power."

When they had arrived at Nocturnal's shrine, no one was anywhere to be seen, no worshippers, just dead trees.

"We are here." Said Warnarn. The statue of Nocturnal stood above all else in the swamp, two ravens sitting on her arms.

"Nocturnal," he kneeled down, "Hear my voice, I was made an honorary Nightingale by you some time ago, and I would like to make the same pact thrice." A purple black anomaly appeared in front of the statue and it moved and vibrated as she spoke.

"_Warnarn, I have been watching your son with great anticipation…_" she continued, "_You think these two could offer me something when they are already bound to Hircine as his hounds._"

"I know they can, I only wish for you to give them the power of an Honorary Nightingale, not a full-fledged member." He spoke "They could spread the wrath of the Nightingales and the Thieves guild, while using your power; you would gain from this." She stayed silent for a time, and then she spoke with resounding Eminence.

"_I suppose I could give them such power… are you sure that the nord is able to sneak at all though?_" Nivard just lowered his head.

"I will train him, when I am done he will be able to sneak with a cowbell tied to each limb." Nocturnal laughed in amusement.

"_Hehe, fine, you are now the agent of shadow Logvarine,_" it felt like a blanket was being placed over him, but there was nothing. "_You shall be an agent of strife._" She said pointing to Nivard.

"Thank you, Lady Nocturnal." Spoke Logvarine.

"_Oooooooh, such manners. Walk always in the shadows young ones._ _And take these tokens of my affection_." Two black hoods with face masks appeared out of thin air and then she was gone. Logvarine tore his own hood off of his head and adorned the new mask, Nivard did the same.

"Are you really going to train me?" asked Nivard.

"Of course, and it will be brutal."

"Great." He sighed "Now where are we off to?" Warnarn gave it some thought before speaking.

"I guess we are off to see Boethiah, he is always fun."

When they arrived at Boethiah's shrine the worshippers were all dead.

"What in Oblivion happened here!?" asked Logvarine while leaning over a dead body.

"Probably killed each other, they do that often." It made sense, Boethiah was the Prince of Plots of murder and deceit.

"_I could see you approaching for miles…_" spoke… one of the bodies.

"Lord Boethiah, it is good to hear from you again." The body got up off of the ground, its eyes were completely black.

"_You seek more power?_"

"No," spoke Warnarn, "I wish for my son to be your new champion." The body held no emotion as blood ran down its face, it was an imperial.

"_I see, do you have my armor with you?_" Warnarn reached into his backpack and revealed a large set of heavy ebony armor. "_Aaah, the Ebony Mail is here, let him adorn it, I must fit it to him, I will also make it stretchable—_"

"Stretchable my lord?" spoke Logvarine.

"_I know you are a werewolf young flesh, you need it to stretch, or you would have to take it off in the middle of a battle._" He laughed. Logvarine put on his armor and found that it was quite baggy. With a wave of the corpse's hand the armor fit snug to his curvature. "_You will need matching boots and gauntlets I think…_" out of thin air appeared two gauntlets and two boots, all of daedric design that fit nicely up against the armor.

"I thank you Prince Boethiah, it is more than I could have requested." Spoke Logvarine. The corpse smiled.

"_Anything for my champion…_" the carcass fell limp onto the ground and did not move again. Logvarine looked down at his new armor.

"How am I supposed to sneak in this father?" he asked. His father smiled.

"That's the beauty of it, it's enchanted," he said, "Try walking forward." Logvarine took a few steps forward, not a single sound was made by the armor.

"By the divines!" said Nivard, "That's amazing!"

"I can give your armor a similar enchantment Niv', as soon as we get you some better armor." Spoke Warnarn. Nivard smiled. Logvarine looked down again and realized that he was wearing the amulet of Talos his father had given him, he didn't remember putting it on…


	4. Chapter 4

"Hello Brother." Greeted Logelaine as the gates opened to frostcrag spire. "How was your journey?" Logelaine flashed his enlarged incisors, and licked his lips.

"You made a Pact with Molag Bal I am guessing…" said Logvarine.

"Yes, and I am now part of the Dark Brotherhood."

"How will you go out in the sun?" asked Nivard.

"Simple, we have magic to counteract such drawbacks." His eyes were slightly yellow around the irises. He had long black hair and was already growing a slight beard and mustache. He was Logvarine's fraternal twin and did not look identical to him. "I see that you have received quite a few blessings brother."

"Yes, Father was quite generous with the Daedra." He smirked, no one could see this through his mask. Nivard had his mask down, but his hood up.

"Father why do you always favour this runt!" Logelaine was known for his temper, and he snarled at his father.

"I gave you a choice to come with me and become a Were-creature or to go with Cavek and his father to become a vampire, you chose that." His father remained calm the whole time. Logelaine turned and walked back towards the spire.

"Sigh… he is always so easy to anger." Said Logvarine.

"Welcome Back!" screamed someone, he couldn't tell where it was coming from and before he had time to look up, Cat was on him. She wrapped her legs around his neck and rested on his shoulder. He was so surprised that he could hardly balance her atop himself. She jumped off and landed with surprising grace. "That is some nice armor friend."

"Thank you, Cat."

"Catath'een is your mother around?" asked Warnarn.

"Yes, she should be somewhere in the spire."

"Thank you, I wish to speak with her" he left for the spire as the other three stood there in the snow. A dark elf approached dressed in thieves guild armor, about as tall as Logvarine but bigger, more muscle.

"Greetings Sera!" he said.

"Rytel!" exclaimed Logvarine, "Where have you been friend!" they embraced each other in a friendly hug and shook hands.

"I was off becoming an honorary Nightingale, like you, except my father took me." Logvarine sighed.

"I hope that someday we can become real Nightingales…" he said. Rytel pulled up his hood and mask and laughed.

"The three Nightingales, what Irony."

"Oh how I envy you all," spoke Cat, "I wish to one day become a Nightingale."

"I always thought they were just a myth?" said Nivard.

"They are very much real, I assure you." Replied Catath'een.

"I'm sure that one day the Daedra will see our worth." Declared Logvarine. "Until then we are their humble servants."

"You Dunmer and your Daedra, do you ever focus on the nine divines?" asked Nivard.

"Sometimes," replied Rytel, "We simply need time to transition from the Tribunal."

"Ain't that the truth…" whispered Logvarine.

When they made it inside of the tower, they made their way to the quarters that were added on to the original spire itself. The spire was a great deal wider and larger than before and it stood as a monument to success. Moon-cat and Warnarn sat at a table sipping down wine and talking about the good old days of the Thieves Guild. Some of the older members, loyalists of Logsharn, were talking about how things were when he was still around and comparing it to Warnarn. When they arrived in the Quarters they went and sat down in Logvarine and Nivard's room. As they sat around drinking mead and laughing, Logvarine pulled out his skooma pipe.

"What in Morrowind are you doing!" Cried Rytel in a hushed tone. Logvarine lighted his fingers and stared at him.

"Oh, sorry, where are my manners?" he held out the pipe to Rytel, "want some?" a look of disgust ran across his face.

"I don't want any part of that, it's Illegal—"

"We're thieves you idiot! What, is that suddenly legal now?" said Logvarine, he took a large toke on the pipes hose and then passed it to Cat.

"Not you too Cat, I just met you but I thought you were better than that." Pleaded Rytel hands in the air. She took a very long drag on the pipe and then sat it down, blowing smoke in Rytel's direction.

"I am Khajiit, it is part of Heritage." Rytel coughed and swatted away the smoke.

"Nivard! You don't mind this!?" he said astounded. Niv just shrugged and said:

"No reason to be upset about it, let them do it." Rytel gave in.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't get yourselves killed."

"We are highly resistant to such Intoxicants, I will be fine." Assured Logvarine.

"May I have some?" Asked an Argonian visitor. It was Em-Shei.

"Yes friend, come, come." Said Cat. As he sat down Logvarine passed the pipe to the Argonian who was now sitting right in between Rytel and Nivard. He took a Long drag and sat it down, waving his hand that he was done.

"So how did your contract go, Lightweight?" laughed Logvarine. Em laughed to.

"It was quite the adventure, you see I was tasked with… with t-taken… taking down a guard that was caus-s-sing trouble for the wabberfront, I mean waiterfront… dammit." He was obviously not fit for talking after the Skooma so everyone just laughed. The rest of the night they passed it around and told ridiculous stories that may or may not have happened. Many people eventually joined their circle, including Cavek the Bosmer now a vampire with long blonde hair and dark eyes, Daneg the nord barbarian who also became a Vampire at the recent ceremony, and another dark elf, a woman named Erikaly who was admired by many of the guilds members for her beauty, however she was already dating Daneg so all bets were off. Everyone who joined was at least around the same age; one of the few teenagers who didn't join was Logelaine, still bitter over his father's favouritism.

The next Morning they began very rigorous training sessions; all of the younger members, for an expedition to Skyrim that would be happening in a few years. Warnarn said that the journey and the mission would be tough and that preparation was key to its success. They needed to be ready for whatever it was they would have to face and they had to be properly equipped.

They trained by day and sometimes by night, when they weren't training they were drinking and smoking, playing songs on the lute and singing to their favorites. Logvarine's new suit of armor was not as heavy as it used to be, he was used to it by now and it fit him like a second skin. Some days he would even forget to take it off when going to bed. Day after day after day after day, they trained nonstop on anything they could think to train for; climbing, sneaking, fighting, hand-to-hand, swordsmanship, how to ride a horse, archery, magic of all kinds, and Logvarine excelled at all of it. Every day he would have to transform into werewolf at least once so he could adapt to the change. He and Nivard would kick off their boots and throw away their gauntlets and then transform into their dreadful form. After months of rigorous training they could even talk in their were-forms, and transform completely at will, Logvarine had no need for the ring anymore, but it still amplified his powers so he kept it. They were greatly surprised when one day Catath'een joined their training.

"What are you doing here, you want to see us change?" asked Nivard.

"As tempting as that may be, I am here to train with you." They were even more surprised when she transformed into a werewolf herself, it took many more months for her to master it like they had but, in those months many had joined them. Another Khajiit named Tyr'ique joined one day and turned into a werelion, and then one day Em-Shei showed up after a contract in Black marsh… and turned into a werecrocodile after explaining he had been bit, they had to restrain him and teach him how to control his powers. An Orc friend of Logvarine's named Tylnar explained how he did the ritual to hircine and turned into a wereboar. The youth of the guild trained from month to month, recruiting new members with their own sets of skills and powers, they were greeted like family. Refugees from Morrowind, escaped Thalmor prisoners and refugees of war, even former Thalmor trying to turn their lives around.

They gained the attention of the Aldmeri Dominion but they were an Imperial sanctioned guild, and therefore untouchable. The guild grew over years and they established outposts all over Cyrodil. The guild grew into a true family, with people you could actually trust to watch your back daily.

The year was 201 of the fourth era, Logvarine was 22 years old now, and his special armor literally grew with him. He had mastered stealth, magic and combat, as did many of his peers. His father even taught him how to use a mark and recall spell to switch weapons by teleporting them to you in the middle of combat, he excelled at this as well. And just as Nivard had said, he learned Humility and kindness, respect and Modesty. He was a Nord at heart and the hurt of Morrowind seemed farther away than it was. The inseparable group of friends became even more so, they were the best of friends and when they fought alongside one another no one could stop them. His father was so proud, and his brother was more disgusted with every day that passed. On the day when they prepared to leave for Skyrim, Warnarn took his second son out of view to talk.

"What is it father, they will be leaving soon and I need to get on the Carriage…"

"Son… you cannot go yet…" replied Warnarn painfully. Logelaine stared at him for a long time and then said:

"I knew you were going to do this, you Swit why can't I go; they need me."

"Exactly, you don't have enough respect and you just proved that to me, you need more training."

"Damn you father, how could you; I have trained so long for this day and—" he was cut off by his father

"That is final!" they went silent, and Logelaine went back into the tower. Warnarn turned away to look at the carriages and then walked over to his son loading up supplies.

"Who is going on your carriage?" he asked. Logvarine turned around.

"Oh, hello father, well other than Tylnar who is driving… let's see, hmm, well Cat is and Nivard, Em, Rytel, Cavek, Daneg, and Erikaly. When will the others be coming out?"

"They will be along in a month's time. Until then you are on your own." He said crossing his arms.

"I understand, we will be off soon, good luck. Umm sir?" asked Logvarine.

"Yes, son?"

"What is our mission?" Warnarn reached into his pocket and took out a letter sealed with wax.

"Do not read this until you arrive in Whiterun, is this understood?"

"Of course Father…" everyone started piling into the carriage and cat came up behind him.

"We're going soon, friend."

"I know, I'm coming." He got onto the cart with them and closed the door on the back.

"May Nerevar guide your path." Waved Warnarn.

As the cart passed by a forested area, a man sat on a horse watching them, loathing them. "If father won't let me go, then I will have to go on my own." And then he rode off.

End Of Prologue...


End file.
